


Contracts and Bargains

by Cranksta



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dracula!Reaper, Gen, HalloweenEvent, Just a little drabble for the soul, M/M, Thrall!76, might continue this, wrote this with only one hand oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranksta/pseuds/Cranksta
Summary: The Reaper is lonely in his age, so he makes a companion instead.





	1. Chapter 1

People had always regarded the creation of a Thrall to be an act of domination, suffering, and enslavement.

****

But for The Reaper, it was the act of a lonely creature masquerading as mercy.

****

He'd been alone for decades, his only companion being a recent acquisition. A boy cast from his village after being infected with lycanthropy and left to his own devices in a pack that killed humans for sport. He couldn't exactly judge- he'd done it too in his younger years- but he valued quiet and cooperation more than the thrill of the chase anymore. The locals had sought him for help, offering consistent meals and protection against hunters in exchange for elimination of the Deadlock Pack.

****

He hadn't expected to find a boy of no older than sixteen within it.

****

The boy had fixed him with a gaze of vengeance, readying himself to fight even as he slipped in the blood of his companions and trembled. The Reaper thought the additional bloodshed unnecessary, bringing him to Castle Blackwatch and giving him a home instead.

****

Jesse was now in his late-twenties and had set off on his own to seek life as a cursed hunter- sworn to kill supernaturals that threatened the living. He visited every now and again, but The Reaper hadn't had meaningful companionship for years.

****

So when he came across the bloody battlefield of yet another mortal conflict, he couldn't help but stop and observe the man sprawled at the bottom of a churned up trench. The soldier was experienced, perhaps a few years older than himself when he had been turned, and his steel blue eyes bore into him with the strength of a man unwilling to die even as blood pooled around him. The Reaper knelt down to examine the scarring and age marks around his face- wondering how long this man had made a career out of fighting other's battles.

****

He knew the soldier couldn't see him through his mask, but he felt the weight of his gaze nonetheless. The soldier was watching him, turning over scenarios and tactics he could use against the vampire if he tried to take his blood.

****

The Reaper hadn't felt proper hunger in years, the offerings of his villages keeping him sated even in places reeking of blood like this. No, the hunger he felt was different. Keen and desperate, he felt it in whatever he had left of his soul. The soldier enraptured him. His strength and ferocity and unwillingness to concede defeat.

****

"Do you wish to live, soldier?", he asked, already knowing the answer.

****

The blue eyes widened as he moved closer, stripping his gloves and cutting into his palm with the knife at his hip. He held the bleeding wound over the soldier's lips, letting the liquid drip messily over him before pressing his palm in firmly.

****

The soldier thrashed at first, but the squirming quickly changed into something more needy, the soldier's mouth now sucking at the wound greedily. The Reaper could feel the draw of power, a heady groan filling the air as the soldier's hands flew up to grab at his arm and hold him in place. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. A complete channeling of being and strength and power. He shared everything he had with the soldier, and the soldier took it with enthusiasm.

****

The Reaper pulled back his hand suddenly as his mind screamed- too much. Too much was being drained from him, and he sat back on his heels watching the soldier change before him. The soldier wasn't a vampire really, he wouldn't be. He hadn't died, not fully. But he was something else, his blue eyes giving way to an unnatural red like his own. The mans pale skin glowed in the moonlight and he grimaced as his canines lengthened, cutting into his lips briefly before healing again.

****

But never did his eyes leave him. The man watched him with that same soul-piercing stare he'd had in the beginning. There was just new life to it now, recognition. The soldier knew him now, had a taste of his being and had a divide of his power flowing through his veins. It thrilled The Reaper, the concept of taking his new companion home making him feel almost giddy.

****

"What's your name, soldier?", he asked.

****

"Jack.", the new immortal answered.

****

He smiled behind his bone mask, reaching down to pick up the still-changing man in his arms.

****

Yes. He'd keep this one.


	2. Two

The first week with his new companion was quiet. The new immortal was making sense of his place in the world and spent much of his time sitting thoughtfully at his chamber window. He’d given Jack his privacy, but checked in frequently to examine his progress. He waited patiently for Jack to come to him, felt excitement at the thought of sharing his experiences with him.

  
Jack still needed to eat, and The Reaper watched silently as they shared the table that evening.

 

His laugh broke the quiet at the sight of Jack making sense of his new teeth, dropping his fork dejectedly as he nipped himself yet again. Jack’s eyes shot up to him, eyes squinting and posture tight.

  
“Apologies. I’ve not seen this process before. You remind me of a snake I used to keep. She had a habit of missing her food entirely and biting her own tail. I meant no ill will.”, The Reaper offered, not wanting to create a rift.

  
Jack relaxed, but looked down at his dinner again, no doubt determined to prove Reaper wrong.

  
The Reaper approached him, startling him slightly as he moved to sit on the edge of the table, pulling his fork out of his hand and gripping his chin to pull it up slightly. The touch thrilled him, their shared power dancing across his fingertips. By the immortal’s shudder, he’d felt it too.

  
“She only stopped once I started feeding her by hand, humour me?”, he asked, tapping his thumb against the man’s pale cheek. Jack’s shoulders stiffened, then relaxed as he opened his mouth obediently. The Reaper smiled from behind his mask, reaching down to pluck some meat from his plate and push it past his lips. “Slowly.”, he guided, watching Jack focus.

 

They finished dinner this way, The Reaper satisfied at his progress. 

 

He didn’t give thought to how easily the usually stubborn soldier had followed his instructions.  
\-------------  
“Do you ever take that mask off?”, came the soldier’s gruff voice one evening.

  
They were in his library, The Reaper reading peacefully as the soldier continued his quiet reflection. He looked up, meeting Jack’s eyes through the mask. 

 

“It’s to keep my identity. I like wandering about unnoticed sometimes- being recognized can complicate that.”, he explained.

 

“You don’t take it off at home?”, he questioned further.

 

He tilted his head in thought. Yes he usually took off his mask at home, but he had been unsure if Jack would be ready for that. A small bit of paranoia had been in play too. 

 

“Would you like to see my face, Jack?”, he asked carefully. 

 

The soldier padded his feet on the floor nervously, looking away briefly before nodding. Reaper chuckled at the honesty of his shyness. It was endearing coming from a man that probably had a kill count that could rival his. 

 

“Then come here and I’ll show you.”, he beckoned, feeling some jitters at the thought of Jack finally seeing him. What would the immortal think of him? Would he like what he saw? He wanted Jack’s attention more than he cared to admit.

  
He saw Jack fight with himself on the chair. His aborted motions to get up before getting shy and sitting down again, eyebrows knit. He laughed again, “It’s alright Jack, I want you to see.”

  
Jack breathed evenly, standing up and striding towards him in one smooth movement. The immortal towered over him, watching. Waiting.

  
“Take it off.”, the command came easily. He hardly noticed it.

  
Jack’s hands shook slightly as he reached around the back of his head, snapping the clips and releasing the mask from its frame. He hesitated for a moment, pulling away the bone-white material and revealing The Reaper’s face.

  
Long hair tied in a loose braid spilled out around his shoulder. Red eyes gazed up at him, soft and watchful. A neat beard framed his lips as they drew into an amused smile, the movement pulling across his high cheekbones and warm skin. The man was gorgeous. Regal.

  
The soldier studied him with wide eyes, awestruck and surprised. He didn’t speak.

  
“What do you think, Jack?”, The Reaper asked teasingly. He could tell the man found him attractive and it pleased him. He had hoped he would.

  
“Your skin, how is it so…?”, he trailed off, shy. Uncertain how to phrase his question.

  
“I’m old, Jack. It gets easier to look like my previous self each passing decade, and feeding frequently helps too.”, he quipped, brandishing his fangs, longer and more fearsome looking than Jack’s own.

  
“Will I…?”, the soldier asked, curious.

  
The Reaper thought for a moment. “I don’t know, Jack. You’re not a vampire, not fully. You’re a halfling, you might stay exactly as you are.”

  
Jack seemed okay with that, nodding. In truth Jack looked almost no different than on the night he’d been changed. His skin was paler, there were darker circles under his eyes, but he still seemed rather human.

  
The Reaper held out his hand, Jack dropping his mask into the waiting palm. He smiled again, “Anything else you wish to know, Jack?” he hoped there was. No one asked him questions anymore.

  
The immortal thought for a moment before shaking his head. Briefly, disappointment filled him. He sighed, but gave Jack his space remembering that they had eternity to spend on nights like this.  
\---------------------------

 

The Reaper came back to his castle on evening after a successful night out. The villages he protected kept their promises and he’d fed well that night without so much as a complaint. Once they realized he could feed without killing, they’d been more than willing to arrange a schedule for him to visit and get what he required. If he was honest with himself, he felt a little blood drunk, giggling down the hallway as he stripped his mask and sought out his companion. What would they talk about tonight? 

 

His mood sobered up quickly as he found Jack in the corner of his chambers, curled up in on himself and shivering. He felt guilty, calling out to the immortal as he approached. Jack sat upright almost immediately, eyes focused onto him with a pained look on his face. He looked gaunt, breathing heavy and unsteady, lips bloody from chewing.

  
“Jack…”, he spoke gently, crouching down in front of the soldier and gripping his shoulders. The man looked distressed, but there was something more underneath his garnet eyes. A hunger.

  
Of course. The Reaper mentally smacked himself. Jack needed blood too, he wasn’t fully human anymore. He sat, thinking through his options. He couldn’t bring Jack to the village, his contract only included himself. He didn’t want to risk his position by hunting either. He looked back down at Jack, who was staring at him with an odd look. He was trembling but focused, staring unerringly at his throat, mouth agape and breathing heavily. The Reaper tilted his head, watching Jack watch him. Could Jack smell the fresh blood in his veins?

  
He supposed it was a good option. Feeding between vampires was a relatively common practice, though it was a pretty intimate affair. Would vampire blood even work for a halfling? He was Jack’s sire though, he had a responsibility to keep him healthy. And he’d be lying if he said the thought of Jack feeding from him didn’t excite him a little. Only a little.

  
Yes. It was their only option at the moment.

  
He pulled Jack close to him, picking the sickly man up and walking him to his bed, laying him down gently. The Reaper studied himself a moment, swiftly stripping his shirt to avoid stains before climbing up next to him. Jack’s eyes never left him, though he complained weakly at being manhandled upright against The Reaper’s chest.

 

“I need you to drink, Jack. Can you do that for me?”, he asked quietly trying to coax the soldier to mouth at his throat. The immortal struggled, trying to find a good angle and biting too softly to tear skin. He could feel the way Jack was shaking, held him closer and trying to assure him that it was okay to bite harder. The new immortal just couldn’t get the hang of it, the action too foreign and teeth too small.

 

The Reaper pulled away briefly, shuffling into his belt to pull out his knife, cutting the side of his throat with a grunt and bringing his companion to the wound. “Drink.”, he commanded.

  
And drink he did.

  
Slowly, tentatively at first, then with intense hunger as he felt Jack's sharp canines finally pierce him. The sensation of it overwhelmed him, made him pant and groan as Jack's arm came up around his shoulder to pull him closer. It didn't hurt, not by a long shot. It was euphoric, much like the night he first gave Jack new life. The touch burned, the exchange of power intense enough to make him sway.

  
He could smell Jack so clearly. Still human enough for him to smell the blood in his veins and the heartbeat in his chest.

  
He wanted a taste.

  
He nosed at the soldier’s neck, the smell there making his jaw slacken and mouth water. Jack’s tongue lapped at his wound, sending sparks of sensation through him and making him groan. He felt hot, the way Jack clung to him made him feel _alive_.

  
He hardly realized he moved until he felt the hot rush of blood in his mouth. He moaned with the sudden taste of it, gripping the immortal tighter against him. The soldier tasted heavenly, the undercurrent of his own power in the blood making his head spin. It brought forth a possessiveness he hadn’t felt before. His head was fuzzy, making it impossible to tell where he ended and Jack began. He could feel the clutch of arousal in his gut, the urge telling him to take Jack and never stop- never let go. Jack belonged to him, he only had to reach out and seize what he wanted.

  
But then he felt pain hit his head, sobering him up to the way Jack was writhing in his grip, shouting hoarsely and boxing at his ears. Horrified, he unlatched himself and pushed away, sending Jack tumbling to the floor, blood still spilling from the punctures in his neck. The soldier was gasping, tremors overtaking his body.

 

The Reaper hurriedly wiped his mouth, eyes wide as he moved to help his companion up. Jack flinched and kicked away from him, the smell of his fear saturating the room.

  
_No. No. No. This isn’t what he wanted._

  
“Leave.”, Jack whimpered from the rug.

  
“J-Jack, I’m sor-”, he began.

  
“LEAVE.”, the cracked voice of the soldier interrupted him, making him flinch backwards.

  
He practically ran from the immortal’s room, the taste of Jack’s blood still on his lips and the evidence of his betrayal sticking heavily to his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reaper just wants to flirt, but he's completely hopeless and has no semblance of self control.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun little idea I had bouncing around. Might continue it, but I'm not sure how far I want to take the pet thing. I'd like for their relationship to be of some equality, but there's not really a balance between slave and willing partner. Not that that can't be sexy too, I'm just not one for non-con.


End file.
